Bodies get softer when they’re in receipt of love. Faces glow with overjoyment. No hollow eyes, just the dewy skin of adoration.
When I lay my weight on my friend, she complains of my hip bones. How they dig like walking barefoot on gravel. But she tells me to stay put, she knows the years haven’t been kind. The hairdresser tells me I look 25. I've not laid a finger on my 20s. He claims it’s because I’m mature. He says it’s a good thing but I can’t help but think I missed out on my youth.
When he said he loved me I had to hold back a laugh. He had me in chains tethered to his bed for over a year. A 3 hour bus ride, a pale bloodstain on his loose sheets, another victim of theft. I was his dream girl. He wouldn’t ever find someone better suited (to fuck). He found someone else soon after.
The aching for him, whoever he was at the time, has worn all the love from my mother down to a poking skeleton. I want four children. I don’t think my body is strong enough to bear even one. It doesn’t matter, he never dreamed of having children with me. He liked grasping the flesh on my chest. He liked the places I kissed. He liked how warm (tight) I felt inside. I tell him there’s a spare toothbrush by the sink as he puts his rings back on and ties his laces. I sit on the stairs as the doors slam and it reminds me of how my dog watches the door longing for his family to come home. Then I cry about my dog.
I learned to do things the right way. That’s what I told the nice guy with kind eyes and long hair. An exception to the current pandemic of hit and runs. He probably would’ve given me the world but I knew it wouldn’t work since he was too adventurous and had plans to move to France in the near future. At least that’s what I told myself was the reason I never texted him back (someone else still had their claws in my heart).
My lashes weren’t as long as they were a year ago. My best friend from home says tears help them grow. I trust her with everything. The internet says the opposite. My lashes tell me the internet is right. I think she hoped it would make me feel better. It didn’t work. Nothing works anymore.
As I approach the end of my teens I learn my older sister was right. But no one ever wants to follow advice they know is fact. To truly understand you have to experience it yourself. Therein starts the endless cycle. They warn you but you don’t want to listen. I wish I had listened. She says we’re more similar than we realise. That’s why I make the same mistakes she did at my age. She gives me the advice she wished she had been told. I pick and choose what I tell her. If she saw the whole picture her heart would break. She told me to leave him and i told her I would. I did (after I laid in his loose sheets half the person I once was). I may be mature for my age but my god I was still a child.
She never stops screaming. She hasn’t to this day. For all the times, all the people that have wronged her. But she’ll never stop handing out her heart to every soul she sees a shred of light in. and I can’t stop her. I never will.
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